


Whiteout

by sawbones



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: Ryder, Jaal, and Drack get stuck in the Nomad during a snow-storm on Voeld. The aliens are fine, but Ryder is so cold he can't sleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt! Anon wanted "any Scott/Jaal".

The cave they’d found to shelter in was shallow, barely more than a rocky outcrop if they were being honest, but it afforded some invaluable protection from the storm outside. They’d been lucky to find it just before the white-out hit, luckier still that the Nomad had just squeezed inside and no-more. Scott wasn’t sure they even had room to open the door - not that he’d want to, and risk losing more than just a few toes to frostbite.

All things considered, it wasn’t so bad, even if ‘an angaran, a krogan, and a human get trapped in a car’ sounds like the set up for a bad joke (or something straight out of Fornax: Andromeda Edition, but Scott tries to not dwell on it). He’d taken the back with Jaal, let Drack take the front since he claimed the bucket-style seat was better support for his bad back. They’d broken into the emergency rations and swapped stories over dry crackers and drier jerky; Scott had laughed until his face hurt at half of Drack’s stories, and then again at the way the old krogan explained every second idiom and turn of phrase to Jaal with an inexhaustible patience.

It was almost enough to make Scott forget the numbness in his hands and feet, the way his tongue felt too thick for his mouth when he tried to speak. SAM was a buzz like a hornet at the back of his neck. The temperature was dropping, and so too were his vitals. All non-essential functions in the Nomad were shut down to power the fuel-sapping life support system: the lights, the comms, the shields, the stabilisers. They didn’t talk so much once it was dark.

Scott picked his armor off piece by piece, since only the undersuit actually kept him warm. Figured he could at least get comfortable. Drack kept his on, said he was more comfortable when he was impervious to all forms of physical attack. Jaal nodded sagely at that one, but didn’t say anything, just helped Scott figure out how to lay the back seats flat so they could catch some sleep. He’d wondered if that was a good idea but SAM had assured him he would continuing monitoring him, and wake him up if need be.

They didn’t have blankets, of course, or pillows. Scott curled up on his half (or third, really, since he always forgot how _big_ Jaal was, how carelessly he sprawled) of the back seat, turned on his side with his arms folder under his head. He could see out the window from the position he was in, though there was nothing to see but a slice of grey-blue rock and the total white beyond it. The snow was so thick, the winds so fast, it almost looked as solid and opaque as a sheet of paper, like there was no storm outside at all. The way the Nomad restlessly rocked from the constant gusts reminded him otherwise. He was glad he couldn’t hear the howling gale, only Drack’s soft and uneven snoring.

Scott sighed. He turned onto his back and tucked his hands into his armpits in a futile attempt to warm them up a little. He turned his head to the side, blinked at the lump beside him; even Jaal seemed to be asleep already, his chest rising and falling in deep, calm breaths. His legs were spread, his mitten-like hands curled on his stomach. He looked peaceful, comfortable; even when he was sleeping, he was so open and unguarded. Scott was equal parts charmed and envious. Either way, he smiled.

As if disturbed by his prying thoughts, Jaal stirred and opened his eyes. He looked right at Scott, and seemed unconcerned to find him already watching.

“You are shivering,” he said, “If you are that cold, why have you not said anything?”

“I’m fine,” Scott said. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. His cheeks had certainly taken on a flush of warmth.

“You are shivering,” Jaal said again after a pause, firmer, “Come here.”

Scott didn’t move, but he didn’t have to: Jaal reached over, grabbed him by the upper arms, and forcibly dragged him on top of him. Scott had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a noise and waking Drack, and he stayed stiff while Jaal brusquely rearranged him so all knees and elbows where out of the way, and they could both - in theory - be comfortable. Scott exhaled shakily.

“Tuck your hands in. Keep them covered,” Jaal said quietly as he arranged his rofjinn to cover them both as much as it could. Chest to chest, Scott could feel his voice more than he could hear it. He had to admit, even after just a moment, he already felt warmer - although he wasn’t sure if that was just from his poor heart frantically beating or not.

He tried to relax, to let himself drift off, but he couldn’t. He was comfortable, yes, and not too cold, but the big hands resting on the small of his back make his stomach feel tight. He head was tucked just under Jaal’s chin, and he could feel his breath with each exhale. It brought goosebumps out on his arms.

And then Jaal moved his thigh.

It was an accident, of course, just the angara getting comfortable, but Scott nearly bit through his tongue when that thick, solid thigh pushed up between his legs. He would consider rolling off of him and back into his own space, if he wasn’t sure that would make his reaction painfully obvious. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady.

Jaal did it again. That same slow grind that set Scott’s teeth on edge. He breathed in sharply, and hands balled into fists, wondering what level of interspecies diplomacy crisis ‘accidentally getting a boner on you’ was - but Jaal kept going. In fact, it was almost as though he was doing in on purpose, with the paws on his back holding him in place.

Scott lifted his head, a question on his lips. Jaal was watching him again, blue eyes glinting in the thin grey light.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

Scott’s question withered and died, and all objections with it. He let his head drop again and nodded hopelessly; Jaal had the nerve to laugh, a rolling chuckle that sent shivers through Scott that had nothing to do with the temperature; he slid his hands from his back to grip his ass, and all Scott could do was spread his legs for him, roll his hips into the motion. It felt good, it felt really fucking good, and he wished he could reach Jaal’s mouth from where he was so he could kiss him. He had to make do with smothering his moans against his shoulder instead.

Scott felt like a teenager again, dry-humping in the back of a vehicle, but that’s what Jaal did to him. He was so big, so warm, broad-shouldered and thick-thighed with a voice that went straight to his cock. He controlled the pace and the position with an easy and deliberate strength, and Scott was like a boat being rocked by the ocean. From the pleased burrs Jaal was making in the back of his throat, Scott could tell Jaal was enjoying himself too.

He tried to double down on the grinding, pushing back against those hands, wanting more control, but Jaal was having none of it. He gripped Scott by his hips and pulled them flush together, so that rather than humping his thigh, he was angled across his lap, allowing him to feel every inch of Jaal’s cock pressed up against him through his leggings. He let out a stuttering gasp, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Jaal’s chest so he didn’t lose himself completely. Stars above, he had no idea– oh, when they got back to the Tempest, the things Scott wanted Jaal to do to him–

It was less rocking and more rutting, a broken rhythm and no finesse, harsh breaths as they urged each other to completion already. As if realising Scott’s desperation, Jaal leaned forward and caught his mouth in a crushing, messy kiss - and that was all Scott needed. He came with a full-body shudder and a wounded moan against Jaal’s lips, but still he wasn’t free. Loose-limbed and hazy-eyed, Jaal used him like that until just moments later he followed suit with a half-gasped laugh.

They clung to each other, giddy and brainless, swapping tiny soft-lipped kisses and enjoying the bubble of bliss before the afterglow wore off and they’d both realise they’d have to spend the night (and longer) in cum-soiled clothes. But that was a problem for future-them, Scott decided.

“Are you two done yet?” came a disgruntled voice from the front seat. Scott nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Drack, I–” Scott spluttered. Jaal simply raised his brows, “Shit, I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Drack said, “Look, I’ve been around too long and seen to much to gave a crap about what you do in the backseat, but some of us need our beauty sleep, alright?”

Scott nodded, even though Drack couldn’t see him. He let his head fall back on Jaal’s chest and wondered if he could throttle himself with the rofjinn. Jaal brought a hand to the back of his neck and just let it rest there; despite his beaming embarrassment, it felt nice. It felt safe. He smiled despite himself.

Well, at least he wasn’t cold any more.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at [space-mother](https://space-mother.tumblr.com/).


End file.
